Sunrise
by clarawithfitzsimmonsin221b
Summary: When he saves her for the first time, he doesn't know exactly what he's done. When she walks into S.H.I.E.L.D., she isn't entirely certain what she's doing. He knows that he can help her. She doesn't know it yet, but she can help him too. Secrets run deep for a certain couple master assassins and they're both about to find out that neither of them knew just how deep.
1. Rewrite This Story

_Someone tell me when _

_I can start again_

_and rewrite this story_

_How long can I stay_

_lost without a way_

_to rewrite_

_I wish I could rewrite this story._

* * *

_Make me someone new_

_tell me what I do_

_to rewrite this story_

_How long can I stay_

_lost without a way_

_to rewrite_

_I wish I could rewrite this story_

* * *

She stared up at the face above her. Looking into the stormy blue-gray eyes, she knew this fight was over and it was ending with her on the ground. _It's all over_. The thought ran like cooling water through her mind and she relaxed as she accepted her fate. Staring down the shaft of the arrow that was aimed at her heart she found the blessed release that she had been searching for for so long. She released the breath she had been holding and closed her eyes, ready for what would happen. What she wasn't expecting was to hear the sound of the arrow sliding back down the rest as the assassin in front of her let down his bow. She opened her eyes, uncomprehending. His eyes were full of something she couldn't quite understand and her shock held her paralyzed while he bound her hands and feet. Her voice finally caught up with hat her eyes were seeing.

"What are you doing?" She whispered the words, almost afraid of his answer.

"Something I wasn't sure I ever could," he replied softly, "I'm giving a second chance."

* * *

Natalia Romanova sat incredibly still; perched on the edge of the wooden chair that was the only furniture in the room she was being held in. Her mind was still spinning from what had happened; she needed to just shut down for a moment. She focused her sharp hearing on the voices that were coming through the wall in muffled bursts.

"What the hell were you thinking Barton?!"

_Barton. That must be the man with the arrows._

"I was thinking of myself, sir."

_Huh?_

"Dammit, Barton! She is _not _you! This is not even close to that!"

"Isn't it though?" What might have been a snarky comment under different circumstances was instead an actual question. _What is this guy playing at?_

"Why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn Barton?"

"Because I saw her eyes."

_What?_

"She was ready to die; she had _accepted _that she was going to die-_and she didn't care._" The other voice was silent. Then a new voice spoke, one that had obviously been listening without comment to the conversation.

"Sir, with all due respect, we have always trusted Agent Barton's judgment."

_So this is an agency. _

"Maybe you have Coulson, but there are plenty of times when I have called his judgment into question." The tone of the voice clearly implied that this was one of those times.

"Sir," Barton's voice was back, "do whatever you will with me, but give her a chance. She has it, Phil, whatever it was that you saw in me-" Here Barton's voice tightened noticeably, "-I finally understand it because _she _has it." The absolute certainty rang strongly through his voice, echoing in the air. Natalia sat back, stunned. _What is he talking about? What could I possibly have, other than a hell of a lot of blood on my hands?_ She tuned out of their conversation, blood pounding in her ears, drowning in her own thoughts. She was so lost in her mind that she flinched, startled when the door swung open. She immediately stiffened, sitting straight up on the edge of her chair. Two men stood there and neither was the one who had brought her in. The taller of the two men, an African American with an eye patch, stepped forward.

_Obviously the leader. _

"Miss Romanova." The tension and anger in his voice was barely hidden below the surface. Natalia recognized his voice at that of the first man from the earlier discussion but didn't reply; she merely lifted one eyebrow at him.

"You understand that it was our intention to have you crossed off," the man was blunt, "so you'll also understand our extreme hesitancy to do anything else with you." Natalia graced him with a single stiff nod.

"I don't know what you did to Agent Barton that convinced him to abandon his mission, but whatever it was; it has brought about a turn of events." Whoever this man was, he was clearly troubled by what he saw as a betrayal from Barton.

_Barton must be fairly high up in whatever this agency is._

"As such, Agent Coulson-" The man gestured to his companion, "-has requested permission to question you himself." Surprise jetted through Natalia, but she was careful to keep her face neutral. _And what is so special about Agent Coulson?_

"Right this way Miss Romanova." Natalia found herself guided by a surprisingly strong pair of hands, being ushered away into a different room, one that she knew well: an interrogation room. She sat down in the chair on one side of the table. Agent Coulson leaned nonchalantly against the wall, looking relatively calm for being alone in a room with one of the most notorious assassins in the world.

"So," he started, "Natalia Romanova?" She nodded slightly in confirmation of her name.

"But better known as something else, I think." Again Natalia nodded, not saying anything. Coulson didn't speak either, simply watched her with a steady gaze. This held for several minutes, the two of them watching each other, neither staring the other down, both simply observing.

"The Black Widow." Natalia finally broke the silence. Coulson nodded slowly, recognizing the barrier that had just been lowered.

"Do you know where you are, Miss Romanova?" Natalia shrugged.

"Somewhere in America, I assume, based on the accents." Coulson shook his head.

"I meant this building, the people in it. Did Agent Barton tell you where he was taking you?" Now it was Natalia shaking her head. Coulson pushed off the wall and meandered over to the table, starting a little pace in front of it.

"Do you know what S.H.I.E.L.D. is?" Natalia hesitated, debating what to say. For once, she decided to drop her persona and go with the truth.

"I've heard of it, but never needed to know."

"The Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division." Coulson rattled off the ridiculously long agency title like he had said it a million times-_well, he probably has._

"We are a…specialized division of the United States Government," Coulson wavered over his next words, as if uncertain how to phrase something. "You could say that we are the line between world and a much weirder world." Understanding spiked through Natalia. _These are the guys that deal with abnormalities, the 'gifted' criminals. That must be why they got my case._

"S.H.I.E.L.D. is the deepest buried of any United States agency, the best kept secret. Many U.S. citizens aren't even aware of its existence. It takes years of training and testing to even become a level one agent." Coulson paused and Natalia waited, uncertain where this was going. "So imagine our surprise when our top agent comes back from a mission _with the target in tow_ and tells us to let her join S.H.I.E.L.D." _So Barton's their top agent. _Natalia filed that piece of information away for later use. _That's probably the only reason I'm still alive, if one of the other agents had tried what he did-_she shuddered internally. Coulson had stopped pacing and was looking at Natalia straight on.

"What did he see in you?" he whispered softly, "Did he really see…" Coulson let the sentence drift off and his eyes sort of slid out of focus. Seconds later he pulled them back and drilled them into Natalia's.

"This is not a light thing for us, and not just because it's you," Natalia was surprised. "Agent Barton has been with this agency for five years. He's been sent on countless missions, majority of them assassinations." Coulson stopped and Natalia finished his sentence for him.

"I'm the first one he's brought back alive." Coulson nodded.

"That is a very heavy thing for Agent Barton to do. Not just as an agent, but personally, for him." Natalia saw something in Coulson's eyes, a hidden history that wasn't his own, dark secrets that he was keeping for someone else. _Whoever Barton was five years ago wasn't pretty._

"What did you say to him?" Coulson wasn't accusatory; he didn't seem to think that Natalia was manipulating Barton. He was honestly curious.

"Nothing," answered Natalia softly, "I didn't say a single word." Coulson watched her face carefully, scrutinizing every word she said. "I thought he was going to kill me," she continued, "There wasn't much to say." Something new filled Coulson's eyes, a cross between understanding and contradiction.

"There's always something to say," Coulson told her, "even if you can't say it with words." He turned abruptly and left the room, leaving Natalia alone again and thinking, _what the hell does that mean?_

* * *

Coulson left the red-head sitting in the interrogation room and went to the observation room where he knew Fury and Barton were watching. He stepped inside and looked at his boss and his protégée. Fury raised the eyebrow of the eye that wasn't hidden behind the eye patch in question. Coulson looked at him and said,

"Sir, after my analysis of the target in question, I am recommending that she be allowed to enter S.H.I.E.L.D. should she choose to do so." Barton broke into an ear-to-ear grin, vibrating with happiness like a five year old. Fury stared hard at Coulson, and then relaxed.

"Alright Coulson, but she's gonna be a problem for you and Barton to handle. I'm assigning her to you Phil," he spun around and fixed Barton with his one-eyed glare, "But she's going to be your partner." Coulson grimaced-that poor girl, no one lasted long as Barton's partner. _Well maybe he'll finally meet his match in this one. _Coulson chuckled to himself. With that, Fury left in a whirlwind of trench coat, muttering something about better things to do. Coulson looked at Barton.

"You saw it too, didn't you?" the younger man asked. Coulson shook his head.

"I didn't have to," he said, "You already did. Now get in there and stop her from over analyzing the situation."

"Yes, sir." Clint gave his handler a mock salute and a trademark grin before dashing off into the interrogation room.

* * *

The next time the door opened, Natalia was expecting to see guards there to drag her away. Instead she was shocked to find herself facing the one who brought her in-_Barton, _she reminded herself. She was a bit wary, uncertain as to why they would send him in here and as good as she was at reading a situation, she was not at all expecting what he did next. Barton swung the extra chair over so that he was sitting right in front of her, a grin splitting his face.

"So," he said, "How're you doing?" She stared at him in disbelief, confusion written all over her expression. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"You passed," he said, "Coulson 'approved' you, or whatever." A bit more surprise colored her face-she hadn't been expecting that.

"So you have a choice to make," Barton had turned serious, as though someone had flipped a switch. "You can join S.H.I.E.L.D. or we can throw you into one of our holding cells until we move you to a more secure facility." Natalia frowned.

"You're not going to kill me?" she asked. Barton snorted.

"Please. As if after all the trouble I went through to keep you alive, that included dealing with Fury's shit, mind you, _as if _I would let them kill you." Natalia furrowed her brow, a thought bugging her at the back of her mind, something she wasn't quite sure how to phrase. _Oh what the hell._

"Why do you care so much?" she was quiet, "I'm not worth any of this-I don't deserve your…kindness or whatever this is."

"You're wrong," Barton told her simply, "you're dead wrong." Natalia's face hardened; he didn't understand.

"So, S.H.I.E.L.D. or no S.H.I.E.L.D.?" She didn't answer him right away. _Can I do this? Can I walk away from what I was? Become something new? Something better, even?_ She looked at the man sitting across from her. _He seems to think I can; he even _wants_ me to, for some reason_ and just like that her decision was made, clicked into place in her mind. She looked up at Barton and his stormy blue eyes again and when she gave him her answer she watched those eyes light up with some inexplicable happiness.

"S.H.I.E.L.D."

* * *

**A/N: So I hope everyone enjoyed the first chapter...reviews are always appreciated :) Also just wanted to say that the title for this fic comes from a song that I find to be very Clintasha...it's called Sunrise and it's by Rascal Flatts. All of you should really go look it up because the lyrics are just so perfect...anyway yes that's enough of my blabber for one chapter.**


	2. You Save Me

_'Cause when I'm a bullet shot out of a gun_

_'Cause when I'm a firecracker comin' undone_

_When I'm a fugitive ready to run_

_All wild-eyed and crazy_

_No matter where my reckless soul takes me_

_Baby you save me_

* * *

It took exactly one sentence for Barton to make all of Natalia's expectations fly out the window.

"So, you wanna change your name?" Years of training kept her from showing any shock, but behind her carefully neutral mask, her mind was spinning. _Change my name?_

"C'mon Natalia, don't shut me out," Barton persisted when she didn't respond; "I think it's a good idea." He frowned in her direction when she maintained her silence.

"Think about it-your name defines who you are, right? Well, we're redefining who you are, so by all rights you can change your name." Natalia toyed around with the idea. The Black Widow was who she was, _that_ was never going to change, but somehow she knew that wasn't what Barton was talking about. _Natalia Alianova Romanova, _she thought, _that's what he's talking about. The little girl that guards from the Red Room walked all over, the little girl that was lost one night in a fire, the little girl that never remembered her parents and only knew the cruelty of her handlers_._ The little girl that lost herself completely, only to be found by a complete stranger. _Natalia locked eyes with Barton, searching them for anything deceptive or manipulative, but she found nothing but a pure, burning honesty. He laced his fingers together and leaned forward, watching the battle raging in her eyes. _Natalia Alianova Romanova, that's who I was when I put all of the red in my ledger. Maybe…maybe someone else can wipe it out._ She could feel the same energy radiating from Barton that she had felt that night on the rooftop-a kind of childish expectation and for some totally unfathomable reason she found it having the same effect on her as it had last time. She let this new feeling creep through her veins, uncertain what to do with it until suddenly it dawned on her what it was. _Hope, Natalia_, she told herself, _this is hope. _Her eyes met Barton's again and she nodded, giving away the first piece of her old life. Barton's eyes lit up again, just the way they had when she said she would go with him to S.H.I.E.L.D. _Why does he do that?_ She wondered. _Why does he think I'm worth anything? _Natalia knew the way that the world worked and one absolute rule of the world, something that never changed, was that people always had a motive for their actions. _He has to want something from me. _That thought kept her grounded, kept her sane because it was familiar, it was a known quantity. She knew that the minute that they completely destroyed that thought would be the minute that she finally snapped; it would be the moment that she had finally lost too much of her security. But for now, she could continue this façade and pretend that S.H.I.E.L.D. was only helping her because they thought they would be able to use her later. So she listened while Barton threw out names, making faces of perfect disgust when he suggested Mary or Lisa or Carrie. She rolled her eyes when he started naming fictional characters like Hermione and she practically punched him when he suggested that she could be Ginerva since she was a ginger.

"You have to help me out here," Barton complained, "I can't keep guessing what you want your name to be; we'll be here all day if I do." Natalia eyed him thoughtfully, letting her mind wander back to a memory so old and so deeply buried that she thought she had lost it completely. As she dredged the memory up, pain struck her heart much as it had on that day all those years ago. She had been about eight years old when the handlers at the Red Room had put all of the Black Widow candidates into a small room and told them that only one of them would come out alive. The girls had all been living together for three years and each of them had at least one person they cared about in the bunch. However the Black Widow program was all that any of them knew and any emotional loyalties they felt were second to the dream of becoming the Black Widow-for almost all of them. But little Natalia had a different game plan. She had befriended only one of the other candidates, the smallest girl in the entire bunch, the last one to be recruited to the program. She was underdeveloped for their age and it had often put her at a disadvantage, but Natalia had always looked after her. There was an underlying kinship that Natalia had felt toward the girl that she just couldn't explain. That day in the fighting room was no different, or so Natalia thought. So she took up a defensive position with the girl, whose name was Natasha, behind her and Natalia fended off every girl who attempted to take either of them out. She had no qualms about taking the lives of the other girls, something that was utterly disturbing to her as she relived the memory now, but she forced herself to move on. When all of the other girls lay motionless on the floor, Natalia turned to Natasha, checking her over and making sure that she was okay. After it was clear that Natalia had no fatal intentions toward Natasha the two girls found themselves pulled apart roughly and taken to different rooms. Natalia's handlers walked into the room, looking displeased. _You have one more task before you become the focus of our training, _they told her. _You must kill the little one, the runt._ They had hit her when she protested, yelling at her for showing such emotion. _She is a weakness for you; _they said to her, _and we do not tolerate weaknesses. You must eliminate your weaknesses or we will eliminate you_. She had been sent into a new room with their last threat ringing in her ears. Natalia had faced Natasha, who strongly resembled a scared rabbit and Natalia could not bring herself to deliver the fatal blow to someone who was the closest thing to a friend that she had ever had. For the second time that day the two girls were dragged apart and forced back into separate rooms. Natalia had glared defiantly at her handlers when they entered the room. They were holding instruments that were unfamiliar to Natalia at the time, but that she would soon become very accustomed to. She screamed the first time that the whip bit into her soft flesh, crying out when the blood started to run down her back and arms and still they did not stop. The pain continued until she couldn't even scream anymore; she could do nothing. At eight years old her handlers had broken her spirit and hardened her heart, showing her exactly what fate awaited her when she got emotional and disobeyed orders. They sent her back into the room with Natasha and there was no hesitation this time. There was a new coldness in Natalia, one that had penetrated every bit of her essence and she had Natasha in a choke hold within the first ten seconds of being in the room with her. The new, hard Natalia hadn't cared that confusion and betrayal were the last emotions that she saw in Natasha's eyes before the light left them, but as she experienced the memory for the second time, Natalia felt tears form behind her eyes and a lump rise in her throat. In her mind's eye, she watched her eight year old self drop Natasha's lifeless body on the floor without a single care and walk out the door. Her handlers had smiled at her then. _Well done,_ they told her approvingly. Natalia had forced herself to forget Natasha, to forget that entire day, because it was a weakness and the Black Widow couldn't be weak. _I will honor her now,_ thought Natalia; _I will remember the last person who brought out any goodness in me._ She opened her mouth to say something when she suddenly realized that Barton was staring at her with a very intense, worried expression on his face.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, searching her face. She frowned questioningly at him.

"You sort of…spaced out there for a minute," he explained, "and you started shaking, like you were having a daytime nightmare." _I was,_ thought Natalia. She shook her head.

"I was…remembering."

"Remembering what?" Trust Barton to ask the obvious follow up question. Natalia hesitated for a moment.

"Something that I thought I had forgotten," she finally said. Barton looked at her sharply, but didn't press the matter, something for which she was thankful.

"I sure hope it had something to do with your name, because as of right now, I really am to the point where I'm just going to call you Spidey and move on." Natalia fixed him with her signature glare, the one that had been the last thing many a man had seen. To her surprise, Barton just laughed, flashing his childish grin. Natalia scowled, but eventually relented.

"Natasha," she told him. She could see the curiosity burning behind his eyes; he was dying to know why she was choosing that name, but he didn't pry. Barton simply nodded.

"Natasha Romanoff." She frowned at the change in her last name. Barton rolled his eyes at her.

"Every intelligence agency in the world has Romanova on their hit list and they aren't just going to accept 'she defected' as an excuse. They're not as nice as S.H.I.E.L.D." He shot her another grin. "Be thankful it's as close as it is…Fury wanted to name you Smith, but Coulson and I convinced him that it had to be something relatively Russian in origin." Natalia snorted. Barton smiled.

"Well that settles that then. How about we look into some training?" He beckoned to her and she stood to follow him out of the room. As she walked across the floor she looked up at her reflection in the mirror on the wall. The same face that had always looked back at her was staring at her now, but something was different, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Without a doubt, something had irrevocably changed, just under the surface of her skin. She turned away and walked out, leaving her old life there in front of that mirror. Natalia Alianova Romanova was gone and in her place was Natasha Romanoff.

* * *

_Thud._

_Smack._

_Thump._

Natasha poured herself into the workout, losing her sense of the world around her as she concentrated on the punching bag in front of her. It was the kind of cleansing workout that she hadn't had since she left Russia, the kind that didn't require her to analyze the next move of her opponent or think about her own strategy. It was purely about her muscles and she was more than happy to give herself over to her body's instincts and let her brain rest for a while. Unfortunately, she couldn't completely shut down her instincts, so she was still aware of Barton casually leaning up against the wall, watching her train. His stormy blue eyes watched her every move and noted the high level of combat skill she had. _He's good if he can pick that up from a simple workout, _she thought. Of course, she already knew that he was the best S.H.I.E.L.D. had to offer. As if the respectful but deferential manner of all the agents that they had passed in the hall on the way to the training room wasn't enough, S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent him after _her_. That in itself was enough to tell her that Barton was at the top of the S.H.I.E.L.D. food chain. Natasha landed a few more blows to the punching bag before relaxing and taking a few deep breaths. She turned and walked towards Barton-_Only because he's standing next to the water cooler, _she told herself. Barton opened his mouth to speak as she came into hearing distance, but he was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. Frowning, he pulled the device out of his pocket and looked at the number. Natasha stared curiously, watching the blood drain from his face as he answered the call.

"What's wrong?" _That's a bit of an odd way to start a conversation,_ thought Natasha as she grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler. She opened it and took a swig, watching Barton with unashamed interest. Barton gritted his teeth in response to whatever the person on the other end of the line was saying.

"I will beat his ass into pulp. Give me ten minutes and I'll be there." Barton ended the call and was dialing a new number before Natasha could ask any questions.

"Coulson? I need you to come hang with Romanoff for a little while. Something's come up at…at my house." Natasha didn't miss the way that he stuttered over the end of his sentence, or the way that he glanced at her as he did it. _Someone's got a secret,_ she thought, careful to betray no emotion to Barton. He hung up with Coulson and looked at her.

"I've gotta dash. Wait to pull any stupid stunts until I get back, that way you'll at least have a believable excuse. Coulson should be down here any minute." With those final parting words, he was gone. Natasha turned the situation over in her mind. The odds of Barton ever telling her the secret were very slim; she didn't even know his first name, for Christ's sake. But she knew that the inquisitiveness would definitely burn her alive if she didn't do something about it. _And I love a little challenge,_ she thought, a smile creeping across her face. _What could Agent Barton possibly be keeping hidden from his beloved S.H.I.E.L.D.?_


	3. Makin' Memories Of Us

**A/N: Thanks a bunch to everyone who has favorite/followed/reviewed this story:-) I'm sorry that the updates aren't super consistent-I have a really bad habit of working four or five stories at a time and writing one-shots in between so sometimes I neglect some of my stories. Anyway, I just wanted to say that yes I know that Clintasha orgin is a very overwritten subject and thank you for sticking through another version of how they met and such. I will say that this is going to turn more AU relatively quickly, but that's all I'm giving you for now;) I promise this is more than an orgin story! Alright, thanks again all you lovely people and enjoy this new chapter.**

* * *

_~And I'm gonna love you_

_Like nobody loves you_

_And I'll earn your trust_

_Makin' memories of us~_

* * *

Natasha didn't see Barton for the rest of the day. Coulson led her through the activities, showing her the loops. It was really formal and Natasha couldn't help but think of the things that weren't _quite_ in line with protocol that she would be learning if Barton was still here. She was grateful when Coulson led her to her new quarters and handed her a key.

"I expect Barton will be back in the morning," said Coulson, "For now, I suggest you get some rest." Natasha was quiet for a moment.

"Where is he really, Coulson?" She asked. He stared back into her eyes, unblinking.

"He is at his house Romanoff. Good night." Coulson turned stiffly from her and walked away. She watched him go, mind running a mile a minute. _He definitely knows what Barton's hiding. _She shrugged, letting the subject go for the moment as she entered her apartment and headed to bed.

* * *

Barton returned to S.H.I.E.L.D. at one in the morning. There was residual anger in his eyes and Coulson sighed as he watched his favorite agent from the window of his office. Grabbing his cell he punched in a number he had long ago memorized.

"Barton."

_"Yes?"_

"Come up to my office before you crash."

A few minutes later Barton was sitting in the chair in front of Coulson's desk.

"Is everything alright?" Worry rang strongly through Coulson's voice. Barton nodded, not giving any detail. Coulson sighed.

"Romanoff isn't stupid, Clint. She's already asked where you were." Clint looked up at Coulson sharply.

"What did you tell her?" Coulson rolled his eyes.

"The same thing I tell everyone else; that you're at your house." Clint nodded slowly.

"You're partners Barton, you're going to have to tell her eventually."

"Like hell I do." Clint glared at Coulson. "It's not like I ever stay partners with anyone for very long; Romanoff does _not_ need to know a damn thing." He pushed out of the chair and stormed out of the door, slamming it behind him. Coulson shook his head and sighed.

_He really doesn't see it yet._

* * *

"Where were you?" That was the first thing Natasha said to Barton when he knocked on her door the next morning. Barton looked tired, but he was doing a good enough job of concealing it.

"Did you miss me Natasha? I'm touched." He smirked and waited for her to come out of the room. Natasha leaned against the door frame, giving no sign that she was about to move.

"I'm not going anywhere until you answer my question Barton." Barton glared at her, folding his arms across his chest.

"Then you're gonna have a real fun day in your room."

"And since I'm your assignment, you'll be having fun with me." Natasha returned his glare full on. She wanted answers and damned if she wasn't going to get them.

"I can't tell you. You don't have a high enough clearance level." Natasha snorted.

"My clearance is the same as yours Barton, otherwise we wouldn't be able to work together. Don't pull that bull shit on me." Barton shook his head.

"I'm not talking about S.H.I.E.L.D. clearance" He pushed himself off the wall and started walking away.

"Come or stay. Your choice." Natasha frowned after him before finally sighing and following him.

* * *

A folder fell into the desk that Barton and Romanoff were sitting in front of. A spark danced in Barton's eyes.

"Mission?" He asked excitedly. Coulson nodded.

"I hope you like potatoes," he said, "because you're going to Idaho." Natasha raised an eyebrow at her new handler and she flipped open the folder, revealing a mug shot of their target. He was grumpy looking with a stubble covered chin and a balding head of hair. Natasha looked up at Coulson.

"What does S.H.I.E.L.D. want with," she paused to glance down at the file, "Damien Eclaps?"

"He's been getting a little too friendly with some Mexican drug cartels," said Coulson, "but S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't want anything with him, we want him taken out." Natasha nodded, the familiar feeling of anticipation settling in her stomach.

"You, Natasha, will be posing as a young American entrepreneur. Barton, you'll be on back-up, keeping eyes up high for the most part." The two agents nodded. It was simple enough; Natasha would get Eclaps alone and take him out while Clint covered her.

"When do we leave?" Clint asked the only remaining question. Coulson glanced at his watch.

"Your plane leaves in twenty minutes. Good luck." With that, the duo was dismissed and on their way to their first mission together.

* * *

"Target in sight," muttered Natasha, entering the room where Eclaps was holding his little welcoming party. It was a nice cover for an introduction to several high profile drug dealers.

_"I have eyes on target and Widow."_ Barton's voice crackled over the comms, confirming their status with the extraction team. Natasha grabbed herself a glass of wine and causally maneuvered herself closer to Eclaps. She watched him from the corner of her eye, certain that she would catch his eye.

_"So are you planning to actually complete this mission today or..."_ Natasha barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes as Barton spoke over the comms.

"I thought archers were supposed to be infinitely patient," she said through her teeth, smiling and looking away with mock shyness when she caught Eclaps' eye. She saw him give her the familiar once over, taking in her rich red hair and lingering on her exposed cleavage. She shifted slightly, emphasizing the way that her dress clung to her hips. She heard Barton snort in her ear but ignored him, focusing instead on Eclaps, who had excused himself and was heading her way. She smiled and ducked her head, feigning a blush as he approached her.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure, Ms..."

"Rushman," she gave him the over name that S.H.I.E.L.D. had thought up for her, "Natalie Rushman." He smiled a sickly charming smile and brought her hand to his lips. She pretended the admiration she knew that he wanted to see, hiding the disgust behind a smile and ignoring the suspiciously loud coughing that was coming from Barton's end of the comms.

"What brings you here, Ms. Rushman?"

"I'm looking for a foothold for my new company," replied Natasha smoothly.

"Well perhaps we could...discuss the matter a bit later." His tone was thick with met his gaze, keeping her eyes full of youthful innocence.

"I think I'd like that," she replied, smiling with a bit more confidence this time. Eclaps smiled back, gently rubbing circles on her hand.

"Let me just go clear a few things up," he said, nodding the people he had been talking to earlier. Natasha nodded and Eclaps turned away from her.

_"__God, Nat, I don't know how you do this-he's revolting."_ Barton spoke for the first time since Eclaps had approached her. Natasha played with her wine glass, giving off an air of nervous excitement.

"I've dealt with worse," she muttered to Barton. A small frown creased her face for less than a second as she processed what Barton had said. "What did you call me?"

There was a slight pause on the other end of the comms and Natasha could hear Barton shifting. If she wasn't in the middle of an undercover op she would have narrowed her eyes.

_"__It's a nickname, Nat,"_ Barton finally said. She held back a snappy retort when she caught sight of Eclaps heading back in her direction.

"We'll finish this later," she hissed into the comms, plastering a suggestive smile on her face as Eclaps wound an arm around her waist and gestured wordlessly to the door.

As soon as they were alone in his office he pressed her against the wall, kissing her as he reached for the zipper on her dress. His attention was so focused on getting what he wanted that he didn't notice her slip something out of her hair and into her hand. As her dress fell to the floor she wrapped her arms around Eclaps' neck and leaned forward.

"I really am sorry about this Damien," she murmured. A look of confusion passed over his face but Natasha didn't hesitate as she sliced the knife she had hidden in her hair across Eclaps' neck in a single, swift motion. She pushed him away, letting his body fall to the floor as the blood flowed from the fatal wound. Natasha calmly grabbed the dress and pulled it back on, zipping it up.

_"__Damn,"_ said Barton, _"Remember not to get on your bad side again."_

Natasha smirked, then her expression turned a bit more serious.

"Now about this nickname business-" She cut off as the sound of a body hitting the floor echoed over the comms.

"Barton?" She was greeted with only silence. _Shit,_ she cursed silently. She spun toward the window, eyeing the building where Barton was supposed to be stationed. Without stopping to think, Natasha fired her grappling hook and swung across the space, rolling neatly in through the open window. She landed silently, as was her specialty, and a good thing she did. Two thugs were lugging a motionless Barton toward the door, but neither turned around when she entered the room. A quick glance around the room showed Natasha a dart laced with something that looked like sedative lying next to Barton's bow. An unexpected flame of protection rose up in her and she launched herself at the first thug, wrapping her thighs around his neck and flooring him in seconds. Before the other thug could react, Natasha had planted a knife in his chest, effectively eliminating the threat that he posed. She caught Barton as he started to fall to the floor.

"Tasha?" His voice was weak and slurred and he struggled to stand.

"Yeah, it's me." Natasha wrapped one of Barton's arms around her shoulders and stood, supporting most of his weight. She pressed one hand to her earpiece.

"Anderson, can you get the extraction to Hawkeye's location? He's been hit with some kind of sedative."

"Poison," mumbled Clint. Natasha cursed under her breath in Russian.

"Scratch that Anderson, its poison."

_"__I can't move the extraction Widow, the entire area is surrounded by hostiles,"_ Anderson's voice was cool, tinged with just a hint of worry for the archer, _"You'll have to get him out on your own."_

_Great,_ thought Natasha. She looked down and saw Barton's eyes starting to drift shut.

"Dammit Barton, you stay with me! Do you know how bad it's going to look if you die while on your first mission with me?"

"Better figure a way out then," Clint slurred, struggling to remain upright and leaning heavily on Natasha. The redhead focused hard, assessing each of their options. Suddenly a crazy idea came into her head.

"I'm gonna have to drop you Barton." She gave him about a two second warning before she removed the support she had been lending him, causing him to slump to the floor. She dashed over and grabbed his bow.

"Be careful with Ictus," Barton choked out the words when he saw what she was doing. Natasha ignored him and loaded an arrow, taking careful aim. She shot the arrow and held her breath until she saw it safely lodge in her target. She dragged Barton over to the window where she had anchored the rope that was attached to the end of the arrow. She cuffed Barton so that he would be forced to stay on the rope. Natasha positioned him so that she could give him a push and send him sliding down to the safety of the extraction.

"When we get back to HQ, you're going to tell me why you named your bow after the Latin for _miss_," she told him. Then she shoved him, hard, and sent him flying down the rope. She pulled a gun quickly and fired several shots to take out the assassins that had emerged the minute she put Barton up in the window. A quick slice with her knife cut the line that she had sent Barton down, leaving Natasha with no choice but the quick, risky, plan that she had formulated. A smile spread across her lips; she did have to admit that it was good to be back in the field again. With that thought, she leapt out of the window and let herself fall to the ground. Her guns were out before she was even back on her feet, firing in each of the places where she had seen an assassin along with the ones where she just instinctively knew one would be. She took off running, making a break for the black van that was her only hope at the moment. One of the agents on the extraction team flung open the back door and Natasha threw herself inside.

"Go!" She yelled unnecessarily at the driver. The tires squealed beneath the van but no one in the extraction team seemed to notice; they were all staring at Natasha. The Russian ignored them, focusing all of her attention on her fallen partner who looked very weak, lying across one of the rows of seats.

"We gave him a general antidote," said one of the other agents, following Natasha's gaze, "it should take care of any general poison or at the very least hold off a serious poison until we can get to base. He'll be rather out of it for a while. In fact, I'm surprised that he hasn't passed out already."

"He's waiting for her." Anderson nodded at Natasha, then looked at her directly, "He's got something to say to you." Natasha approached Barton's side cautiously, concern and uncertainty mingling in her eyes.

"Hey," she said, looking down at him.

"Hey Nat," she winced at the nickname but didn't respond, seeing that he was struggling to get the energy to form one last sentence before he passed out. Barton took a shaky breath and looked his partner dead on.

"You're halfway to clearance."

* * *

**Well that was certainly fun...don't we all always love when one of our main characters gets injured? Anyway, let me know what you thought and if you have any suggestions. Since I already have plans for this story that go outside of the canonverse I am totally open to any ideas you guys might have:)**


	4. Hurricane

**A/N: Hello Everyone! Sorry about the long wait on this chapter...it's a bit longer so I hope that makes up for it:) I've been super busy with finals coming up and I had a tournament this weekend with no internet so I haven't been able to publish anything lately. Anyways I'm very happy to be back in the realm of the internet. Enjoy!**

* * *

_~I knew when she blew in she wouldn't stay_

_every now and then God makes one that way_

_red haired wild child with storms in her eyes_

_I knew I'd never be the same~_

* * *

_~She said she was runnin' from her past_

_and every breath she stole felt like my last_

_her kiss told me better get on out of there_

_but I was too far gone to care~_

* * *

Natasha took a deep breath in through her nose, pulling her core muscles taught and sending a knife spinning into the target in front of her. No muscle twitched as she calmly grabbed another knife from her belt. She drew her arm back and hurled the projectile forward, not letting the worry that was in her surface or even cross her mind-

_Damn. I'm doing it again. _

She shook her head and gritted her teeth. She knew that she shouldn't be thinking about her partner. She was _training._ Nothing got in the way of the Black Widow and her training. Natasha pushed the thoughts down in her mind, locking them away like she was so used to doing. A slight motion in the corner of her eye caught her attention and when she looked she saw a well-muscled man carrying a bow. Her thoughts unwillingly flicked to Barton and a shriek of frustration ripped through her teeth. She spun around fast enough to give a normal person whiplash and sunk the knife that was still in her grasp into the target. The anger clouded her vision and blocked her hearing. Too late, she noticed the blackness forming at the edges of her eyes.

_Well shit._

* * *

Coulson walked into Medical, sighing at the sight of his favorite agent lying in a hospital bed-again.

"Is it even possible for you to complete a mission without landing yourself in Medical Barton?" Barton glared at his handler.

"I never land myself in Medical," he muttered, "the only times I'm in medical are when I'm forced there." Coulson rolled his eyes but didn't dispute the very true statement. Clint stared moodily at the door. It wasn't hard for Coulson to guess what was on the archer's mind.

"She's in the training room," he said quietly. Barton nodded slowly.

"Of course she is." Coulson didn't miss the bitterness that rang through every syllable of Barton's words.

"Don't expect too much of her Clint," the handler warned, "there's too much that you don't know."

"That's the problem! If she would just talk to me..." Clint shook his head, letting the sentence trail off, unfinished.

"You need to come to terms with the fact that she might never do that." Barton met Coulson's cruel honesty by setting his mouth in a firm line. Coulson sighed and dropped the subject-for now.

"In the meantime, you have more pressing matters to deal with." He held up asleep black phone and internally grinned when all the blood drained from Barton's face.

"Oh shit," swore the agent, "how many-"

"I stopped counting after the tenth call," replied Coulson, flipping the phone onto Barton's lap. "Now call her back before she decides to come in here and find out what happened for herself." He walked out, leaving Barton staring at the phone as though it was a bomb about to go off. Steeling himself, Clint unlocked the screen and dialed a number that he knew very well.

"Hi Nellie."

* * *

Coulson walked down the hall in the direction of the training room.

_Maybe I can get her to go see him. It would definitely do him some good._

He knew it was a long shot, but he at least had to try. Coulson had been Barton's handler for five years and he knew exactly how much the agent hated Medical, so if there was even a chance of something making him feel better about being stuck there then Coulson was going to track it-or in this case her-down. He stepped into the training room and frowned, puzzled when his initial sweep revealed no Russian assassin. A closer second look however, revealed a flash of red hair over by the knife range. Coulson started that way cautiously, knowing perfectly well that sneaking up on Natasha Romanoff was a terribly idea. She didn't move as he approached and Coulson found himself frowning again.

_Natasha doesn't stand around doing nothing in the training room._

It suddenly hit Coulson that it was _very_ unlike Natasha to sit down at all in the middle of a training session. He started running toward her, pressing a hand to his comms.

"I need a med team in the training room, _now_!"

He grabbed Natasha's wrist, checking frantically for a pulse, letting out a breath of relief when he found one. He looked her up and down, assessing her condition.

_No bruising, no bleeding. Then what the hell happened?_

He snapped his head up and looked across the training room at the other agents.

"Hey!" he yelled angrily. _Did they even care that a fellow agent was lying here unconscious?_

"What happened to her?" Coulson demanded when the agents made their way over to him. The youngest one-_Agent Merlow,_ thought Coulson- shrugged.

"She just sort of passed out, sir." Coulson glared at him. _God, they really don't care._

"I don't appreciate your tone agent," he said through gritted teeth, "I think you don't fully understand the implications of the three of you being here alone with an unconscious agent without reporting the incident." Merlow paled considerably and took a few steps backwards.

"I didn't mean…we didn't…" Coulson gave him _the eye. _

"Spare me," he said coldly, "Now get out. And if I see _any_ of you in the next 24 hours I am putting_ all_ of your asses on probation." The three agents nodded submissively and quickly retreated under Coulson's burning glare.

You do _not_ mess with _any_ of Coulson's agents-he didn't care if it was S.H.I.E.L.D. poster boy Barton or the ex-Russian spy Romanoff. Coulson was all about loyalty and dammit if he wouldn't flay any agent who let a fellow agent suffer knowingly. There was one thing that you could always count on once Phil Coulson found out that you laid a finger on his agents, one thing that would be unconditionally true: your days were numbered.

* * *

The call had ended a good five minutes ago, but Barton was still staring blankly at the black phone in his hand. Frankly, he was surprised it hadn't started smoking from the force of anger that came through the line. He ran a hand across his forehead; his ears were _still _ringing from the howling lecture she had given him.

_Jesus Christ, where did she get that set of lungs?_

A scuffle at the entryway to Medical caught Clint's attention and he smiled.

_Good. I'll finally have some compa-_

He broke off mid-thought when he saw the identifying red hair that belonged to the person on the stretcher.

He knew there was only one way Natasha would ever come to Medical on a stretcher and that was if she was physically unable to stop whoever was trying to strap her in.

_Shit, Natasha, what happened to you?_

Barton swung himself out of the bed. He was still a bit weak from the after effects of the poison but he managed to hobble over to the window and what he saw as the stretcher passed by his room scared him to death. His partner was motionless and her eyes were closed. If it wasn't for the barely noticeable rise and fall of her chest and the fact that he knew that she was naturally that pale, he would have thought Natasha was dead.

"Get back in the bed Barton." Clint tore his gaze from his partner's body to scowl at his handler who was standing in the doorway, arms folded, and a _do-not-test-me_ look on his face.

"I'm not telling you a damn thing until you are sitting on that bed. God, Barton, you are still recovering and you spending more time stuck here is not going to help her." Clint glared at Coulson but reluctantly conceded the point and shuffled over to the bed, perching on the edge.

"Now tell me what happened to my damn partner, Phil."

"We don't know," admitted Coulson. Barton's teeth snapped together and his hands clenched at his sides.

"What do you mean _we don't know_?" he seethed. Coulson sighed.

"She was in the training room working with the knives when she reportedly 'just passed out'. That's where I found her."

"How do you know she was working with the knives and someone didn't just dump her there?"

"Two things," said Coulson, "a) do you really think anyone, aside from you, me, Hill, or Fury, even has a chance to take out the Black Widow and b) do you know anyone else who can put three knives in a group the size of a dime?"

"No," said Clint unnecessarily. He ground his teeth together, itching to go rip someone to shreds for laying a finger on his partner. "What the hell happened to her then?"

Coulson shrugged helplessly. "We won't know until she wakes up Barton."

"_If_ she wakes up," Clint muttered darkly. Coulson rolled his eyes.

"Don't be so melodramatic." He turned and walked out, leaving Clint alone with his ever growing need to punch something.

_Damn you Natasha Romanoff. Don't you dare die on me._

* * *

Colors and starts flashing behind her eyes were the first senses that Natasha regained. She was used to this process, even if it hadn't happened in a long time. She frowned internally when she recovered a bit of her outer nerve control and felt the surface she was lying on.

_This is definitely not the S.H.I.E.L.D. training room floor._

A few more seconds passed and the first scents assaulted her previously dormant nose.

_If I am in a damn hospital I will mutilate and kill every last person who had a hand in putting me there._

She let out a small experimental groan without opening her eyes. A snort came from across the room.

"You might be fooling the heart-rate monitors Natasha, but I'm a bit more perceptive than that. You've were conscious for 49 seconds before you made any noise. Now stop pretending and _open your eyes_."

Natasha frowned as she registered the mostly-annoying-sometimes-tolerable voice that she had come to associate with her partner.

"Shouldn't you still be in recovery Barton? Exactly how long was I out?" A little bit of panic fluttered in her chest, but she didn't let it show on her face, still keeping her eyes determinedly shut.

"Long enough for me to be released." Natasha froze when the breath from his speech hit her face.

_Crap._ He was _too _close.

"Barton," she said through clenched teeth, "just because I have my eyes closed does _not_ mean that I will hesitate to slice your ear off if you don't get out of my personal space in the next two seconds."

"Not until you answer my question Tasha." Little whispers of air tickled her ear when he spoke. "Why won't you open your eyes?"

"You know, we never did get to talk about how much I _hate_ nicknames." Natasha calmly avoided his question.

_Please don't do this Barton._

"Don't change the subject Natasha." All pretense of lighthearted banter flew out the window as a dark, serious tone took hold of Barton's voice. "_Why won't you open your eyes_?"

Dammit. He was really going to make her do this.

"Natasha…" he said her name like a warning.

"Because I can't Barton!" she snapped at him, causing him to jump back slightly. She smirked; that's what he gets for invading the personal space of a tense assassin.

"What do you mean, you _can't_?" A new note of caution was present in Barton's questioning. Natasha sighed.

_Screw it._

"I mean, if I open my eyes right now I will go into sensory overload and most likely black out again, not to mention I will suffer a certain degree of permanent blindness. Excuse me if I like consciousness and being able to see." Barton had frozen across the room.

"What the actual _hell_ Natasha!" She could practically feel the glare burning into her skin as she waited for the inevitable accusation that would come next.

"You obviously knew about this," Barton was shaking with barely controlled rage, "so what in that damn Russian head of yours thought it would be okay to _not tell us about it?_"

"I don't share my medical history. With _anyone_," she said stiffly.

"Well that's about to change," muttered Barton, 'If I turn the lights off, will you be able to open your eyes?"

"In about five minutes, yes," she told him.

"Good," he said, "because Coulson said that he wanted your eyes open for his evaluation." Natasha immediately tensed.

"Evaluation?" she asked in a monotone.

"Just a little Q&A, Tasha," said Barton.

"Would you _stop_ calling me by ridiculous variations of my name?" she growled.

"Nope," quipped her partner, "it's a side effect of being my partner."

THUD.

"Jesus Christ Natasha!" Barton jumped to the left as a knife came out of nowhere and embedded itself into the wall a centimeter away from where his right ear had been moments before.

"Side effect of being my partner." Natasha appeared not to have moved an inch, but the knife in the wall said otherwise. Clint eyed her suspiciously.

"They were supposed to take all of your weapons," he said cautiously. Natasha snorted.

"The day that I meet a hospital that can decently take all of my weapons from me, conscious or not, will be the day I die, Barton." He shrugged, pulled the knife from the wall and turned it over in his hand.

"Just try not to impale Coulson, okay? I don't exactly think that any of the other handlers would be able to deal with us." With that he stood and flipped off the lights, opening the door for their handler.

"Hello Coulson." Natasha was the picture of calm as Coulson entered the room. It wasn't something many agents could pull off when Coulson was as stormy faced as he was now. In fact, there was only one other agent who had been known to be able to do it-and he was standing silently against the wall.

"I hope you realize just how much trouble you're in Natasha."

The red-headed assassin raised an eyebrow at their handler, still keeping her eyes shut.

"Medical issues, Romanoff?" Visible anger simmered just below Coulson's skin, leaving a dangerous undertone in his voice. "Any particular reason you didn't feel the need to mention the occasional black out?"

"You didn't ask."

"We shouldn't have to!" snapped Coulson. "Look at me when I'm talking to you Romanoff!"

Natasha clenched her jaw. She was _not_ going blind just because Coulson was pissed.

"Barton?" Natasha didn't trust herself to say more than one word at the moment without attacking Coulson and Barton was right-good handlers were hard to come by.

"She can't, sir." Barton gave a clearly false cough. "If she opens her eyes too soon she'll go into sensory overload and black out, then wake up partially blind."

Natasha could _hear_ the annoyance in Coulson's scowl.

"Then you better start talking Romanoff because I am not letting you out of this room without a damn explanation."

Natasha pressed her lips into a thin line. "I don't talk about my history Coulson, medical or otherwise."

"You do now," her handler growled at her, "or you can consider yourself fired and back out on the street." Both Natasha and Barton froze then.

**_If he kicks her out, she goes back on the hit list._**

_If he kicks me out, S.H.I.E.L.D. will be forced to kill me and they know there's only one agent who can catch me._

**_She better not do that to me._**

_Can I do that to him?_

"Natasha..." This time her name came as a plea. She knew that his line of thinking was the same as hers; it had to be.

"I can't tell you everything Coulson," she warned. The senior agent sighed, his exasperation winning out over his anger.

"Just explain the damn blackouts Romanoff."

"They're a control mechanism. There is a...machine of sorts implanted in my brain. It monitors the electrical pulses and if any emotion starts to cloud my mind, it releases a chemical and I get knocked out."

Silence followed her statement.

"_Any _emotion?" Barton finally managed to recover his senses. Natasha nodded.

"What about the sensory overload?" interjected Coulson.

"Fear. And control." Natasha paused, "you can't see, feel, hear, or smell anything; it leaves you completely helpless to evaluate your environment and assess the threats. It comes back in pieces, but if you force too much at once, well, it ends badly." The air shifted as Barton's muscles tensed and his jaw clenched. He knew as well as Natasha that threat assessment was like a spy's security blanket.

"Why?" asked Coulson.

"Emotions are dangerous. Emotions are compromising. A compromised assassin is useless. Useless assassins die." Natasha spoke in a monotone, repeating the mantra that the Red Room had drilled into her. Coulson didn't comment and Barton's eyes darkened even more.

"Anything else you'd like to tell us, Agent Romanoff?" There was lingering anger in Coulson's sharp tone.

"Not particularly," replied Natasha, imagining leveling a glare at Coulson in her head. She hasn't even wanted to tell them about the blackouts; she wasn't about to tell him about all the other messed up shit going on in her body. Coulson sighed.

"Fine. You can go. If it happens again, Romanoff..." He let the threat hang unfinished.

"Can you open your eyes yet Tasha?" Natasha's teeth snapped together.

_I can if it means I can glare at you._

She gingerly lifted her lids. She finally saw her handler's scowl and the concerned look of her partner. She shot Barton a look and swung her legs over the bed.

"Try and stay out of Medical for a few hours," Coulson told them, shaking his head as they slipped out past him.

_The odds of that are low._

* * *

Anger rolled off Barton inwaves. Natasha maintained a tactical silence, letting him make the first move.

Of course, she wasn't expecting him to grab her and roughly pull her into a broom closet.

She stiffened, fighting against all of her natural instincts that were telling her to knock him out and run. With all of her willpower she held herself motionless and let Barton lock the two of them into the tiny, enclosed space. Natasha was _very _aware of the fact that it was a tiny, enclosed space. She took a deep breath in through her nose and let it out slowly in a stream of air. She could feel Barton's eyes on her and she finally looked up to meet his hard gaze.

"What else aren't you telling us Natasha?"

Natasha stiffened , masking the fear in her eyes that was rapidly sinking into her bones. She didn't bother replying. Barton _already _knewthat she wasn't going to answer his direct questions.

"Dammit, Natasha, I'm your partner! I need to know these things!"

Natasha glanced anxiously around the closet-it was far too small for comfort.

"This is really not the best place for this conversation Barton." She mostly controlled the tremors in her voice, save the one that slipped out with Barton's name when she almost said another name.

_A different name. And a forbidden one. _

"Too bad," Barton growled, taking a step forward and completely obliterating Natasha's personal space.

_Bad move, Barton_.

Natasha felt her breath start to come in gasps and her chest heaved as she started to hyperventilate. For a second Barton's face switched to concern.

"Natasha...?"

_Too late, Barton._

The man in front of her changed as she felt herself pulled back, unwillingly, into the past.

* * *

_Twelve-year-old Natalia Alianova Romanova stands at attention in the middle of an empty room. A man, her handler, circles around her, eyeing her with approval._

_"You have done well Natalia. The patrons will be very pleased."_

_Like the well trained assassin she is, Natalia does not respond. She stares at the mirror in front of her with a stoic face, not moving a muscle. The man finally comes to a stop directly in front of her and looks straight at her face._

_"Look at me Natalia."_

_Natalia obliges, turning her face upward so that her green eyes meet the man's cold black ones. He smiles a twisted smile and grabs her by the arm._

_"You have served your country Natalia. Now you will serve me."_

_The slightest confusion settles in Natalia's stomach but she shows none of it on her face. She merely lets him guide her to a small cupboard just outside the empty room. She doesn't know what he plans to have her to do; none of her assignments have ever taken place in a small, dark box before. It isn't until he is pressing himself against her and she feels his intentions that she speaks her first word._

_"Lucas..."_

_He presses a finger to her lips, hushing her. Natalia obediently falls silent and protest her handler's actions no further. She has been raised since she was five not to ask questions. That is not about to change. So she does not fight, barely even moves as he takes her and does as he pleases with her and after he is finished, he leaves. He doesn't lock the door, but he doesn't tell Natalia to go anywhere either. She slumps to the floor, fighting back tears as the walls of the little closet close in around her._

_The Black Widow does not cry._

_I am the Black Widow._

_I do not cry._

* * *

_~That's the thing about a hurricane_

_she's all lightning and the wind and the rain_

_get to close and you're swept away_

_better hold on til it breaks_

_cause it's a hell of a ride if you can just survive the pain_

_that's the thing about a hurricane~_


	5. The Cowboy In Me

_I don't know why I act the way I do_  
_Like I ain't got a single thing to lose _  
_ Sometimes I'm my own worst enemy _  
_ I guess that's just the cowboy in me _

_ The urge to run, the restlessness _  
_ The heart of stone I sometimes get _  
_ The things I've done for foolish pride _  
_ The me that's never satisfied _  
_ The face that's in the mirror when I don't like what I see _  
_ I guess that's just the cowboy in me_

* * *

"Natasha!"

Before her brain registered where she was, before she even opened her eyes, Natasha lashed out and her fist made solid contact with what felt like a jaw. The hands that had been gripping and shaking her shoulders disappeared.

"Ow! Natasha!"

Natasha was crouched in a defensive stance when she finally opened her eyes. Barton was pressed back against the opposite wall, as far away as he could possibly get from his partner. One hand was raised in surrender and the other one was gently probing the left side of his jaw. His expression was wary as he eyed Natasha, waiting for her to come back to herself.

"Tasha?"

Natasha straightened up, shaking off the memories and the emotional baggage, scolding herself for the relapse.

"I told you this wasn't the best place for this conversation Barton." With no warning Natasha kicked the closet door open and hurried off down the hall. Barton froze for half a second before realizing that she was avoiding him.

"Natasha!" he yelled, scrambling after her, "Dammit Tash, we _need_ to talk!"

His partner ignored his calling and moved with purpose toward her room, her long red curls swinging down her back. Clint followed just as quickly, muttering curses at Natasha every time that pain spiked through his jaw.

.

.

.

Natasha could feel herself starting to shake as she walked the halls of S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, heading for her quarters. She acted as though she was wearing blinkers and could only see what was in front of her, pointedly ignoring the curious stares of her coworkers. She wished that they would all just go back to whatever the hell it was they were supposed to be doing.

Of course, the shouting of her partner behind her probably wasn't helping the situation.

_Screw you Barton. You had your chance and you blew it._

Natasha increased her pace and reached her room in record time, managing to lock the door before the pounding started.

"Natasha! Open the damn door so we can talk!"

If she hadn't been on the edge of losing control again, Natasha would have snorted.

_Talk? You don't want to talk, Barton. You want _me_ to talk._

She resolutely ignored Barton's demands and instead pulled out a yoga mat from underneath the bed. Obviously she wasn't going to be able to get back to the training room, so this would have to do. Natasha took a deep breath in and felt her muscles relax as she fell into the familiar rhythm. Blessedly, Barton's pounding and shouting had ceased; although that probably meant that he was on the way to get Coulson or Hill, if he was really desperate.

_*screeeeeeeeeeeeeeech*_

Natasha's muscles tensed again when the sudden noise echoed from above her head. Letting her instinct rule her head again, she had her gun out and had fired two shots at the air vent in less than two seconds.

"Jesus Christ Natasha! It's just me!"

Barton ducked away from the opening he had just created by moving the air vent cover, prepared to run if she decided to shoot again.

"Is that supposed to make me want to stop shooting?" muttered Natasha, but she threw the gun onto the dresser and turned away from the air vent. She kicked her yoga mat back underneath the bed while Barton cautiously lowered himself into the room, eyeing her warily.

"Tasha-"

He never got the chance to finish what he was saying. Natasha spun around, faster than even Barton could register, and socked him solidly in the face, catching the side of his jaw that she had left untouched in the closet. Barton stumbled back just one step, spat some blood out to the side, and narrowed his eyes at his partner. She was crouched in an attack stance with no sign of letting up.

_So this is how we're going to play it._

Barton calmly regarded Natasha, then assumed his own fighting stance-one entirely made up of defense. An almost feral growl ripped through Natasha's gritted teeth and she launched herself at him. Barton stepped back as she attacked, letting her land the lighter blows to his body and blocking the ones that could do serious damage. Clint focused on her eyes, letting his muscle memory work the defense. The usual bright emerald of her eyes had darkened to a deep forest green and the familiar light that Barton was used to seeing there was completely gone.

_This isn't Tasha. This isn't even Natasha. She isn't here. This is the Black Widow._

He took another step back and blocked another assault. He could feel the growing intensity of the attack but he didn't push back. Obviously, his partner had some pent-up frustrations. Barton knew from personal experience that this was the best way to vent out your anger-at least for people like them. Natasha jerked her head back and slammed their foreheads together, leaving Barton seeing stars. A shriek ripped through her at his lack of retaliation.

"Dammit you coward, _fight back!"_

"No."

Barton ducked as another punch came at his temple and sidestepped her attempt to knock his legs out from underneath him.

"I won't fight you Natasha. Not like this."

An unintelligible screech slipped through Natasha's lips and through the extra energy that she poured into the one-sided fight Barton saw her resolve waver for half a second.

Which was completely ridiculous, of course. The Black Widow doesn't waver, not even a little bit.

Don't tell that to Agent Barton.

"Natasha, listen to me." Barton parried three quick punches away from his gut, spun around and twisted Natasha into a headlock. He knew he only had about ten seconds, at best, before she broke out of it, but it was all that he needed.

"Look Tasha, if you want to fight me when we're both in our right minds, then by all means do so. But us beating each other to pieces isn't going to solve a damn thing and you _know_ that. So let go of all your instincts that are telling you that fighting is the only way out of this. There is another choice, there is _always_ another choice."

Barton held his breath, keeping a tight grip on his tense partner. Two heartbeats later she relaxed and all of the fight escaped her, like a deflating balloon. Barton released the headlock and she pushed away from his, starting for the bathroom.

"Get out of my room Barton."

Clint spluttered, staring at her incredulously.

"You just tried to wipe my ass across the floor and you're telling me to _get out_? No explanation, no talking, no nothing?"

"I don't do the feelsy, sharing thing Barton. And unless you want me to really wipe your ass across the floor, then you're going to _get out._"

"And if I won't?"

*CRACK*

"Ouch! Dammit, Natasha!"

Barton's hand flew up to his nose and came away bloody. He gingerly probed it and winced at the waves of pain that flew up his face.

"You broke my nose!"

"I _said_ get out, Barton."

The control was fully reinstated in Natasha, but Barton could see from her shaking hands and the look in her eyes that his partner was just barely holding it together.

He could also see very clearly the threat and the warning she was giving him.

In other words, this was his last chance.

Barton stepped up onto her chair and hauled himself back into the air vents, crawling away as fast as he possibly could with one hand holding his broken nose.

For once, he knew better than to stay.

* * *

Coulson was frowning the minute Barton and Romanoff walked into his office for their mission briefing the next morning. Their handler scrutinized the two agents, quickly picking up on the very obvious unresolved tension between them and taking in the rapidly fading bruises on Natasha's knuckles and Barton's slightly crooked nose. Coulson sighed internally.

"Are either of you going to explain?"

Both agents remained silent, not looking at their handler, but also avoiding looking at each other as well. Coulson rolled his eyes.

"I take that as a no. Well whatever it is, you two are going to have plenty of time to work it out on your flight to Cancun."

Coulson slid a folder over to the two of them. Barton grabbed it off the table, flipped through it, and passed it off to Natasha. Coulson waited until they were both finished looking it over before he continued speaking.

"This is a hit, but it's an eyes-up-high hit." He looked between the two agents sternly. "Under no circumstances are you to enter that building, I don't care if it means that you fail the mission. Is that understood?"

"Why?" asked Natasha, avoiding Coulson's question.

"Director's orders. And that's all I can tell either of you. So, are we clear?"

"Crystal," muttered Clint. Coulson raised his eyebrows at Romanoff and she nodded, stoic-faced.

"Good. Wheels up in thirty."

* * *

Natasha could feel the anger radiating off of Clint's skin. She remained silent, determined to ignore him for the entire four hour flight.

Not that it would be easy, since they were both strapped in with less than four inches separating them and they weren't exactly allowed to move.

_Well, I'm not going to be the one to break the silence, that's for sure._

Natasha tipped her head back, thinking that sleep would be a good way to pass the time. Unfortunately, her partner had a different idea.

"Natasha…"

_Oh, here we go._

Sighing, she opened her eyes and looked at Barton for the first time since she had punched his nose yesterday.

"What, Barton?"

"We need to talk this out." He looked down at her seriously. "We can't go into a mission like this."

As much as she hated to admit it, Natasha knew that Barton was right. She pursed her lips.

"What do you want me to do, Barton? I've lived a life of secrets since I was five years old. Trust me, I don't change that easily."

"I just want you to trust me enough to talk to me. Stop shutting me out."

Natasha shook her head and swallowed. "Don't hold your breath." She turned away from him and closed her eyes, feigning sleep. They might need to clear the air, but that didn't mean that she was going to pour her heart out. That was never going to happen. She heard an angry huff from Barton but he didn't press the issue and they passed the remainder of the flight in silence.

_This is going to be a fun mission._

* * *

Coulson typed away steadily, plowing through the mountain of paperwork that Hill had piled on his desk that morning.

_It seems all that woman ever does is give me paperwork._

A smile worked its way across Coulson's face at that thought. He knew perfectly well that Maria Hill did more work quantifiable work than anyone else at S.H.I.E.L.D. Even Director Fury didn't do quite as much measurable work, or if he did he wasn't sharing it with the general populace.

"I wouldn't be looking so happy if I were you, Agent Coulson."

Coulson jumped slightly when a female voice spoke from his doorway. He looked up and the smile melted right off his face.

"What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to him and he isn't answering his phone."

Coulson sighed.

_God dammit Barton._

"He forgot to tell you, didn't he?"

"Forgot to tell me what?"

"He's not here, Janell. He's on a mission."

Janell swore under her breath. "He never forgets to tell me!"

Coulson grimaced a little bit. "I wouldn't dwell on it too much. He was probably just worried about the whole situation with-" He broke off abruptly when he remembered that Barton hadn't informed Janell of his new partner. She raised her eyebrow at him.

"The whole situation with what, Coulson?"

"That's not for me to tell you."

"I swear to god Coulson, I am _not_ happy right now and I will not hesitate to burn this entire building down to the ground if you don't tell me. And you know that I have enough explosives on my person to do it too, so start talking."

_Jesus Christ, what did I ever do to deserve this,_ thought Coulson, _I am going to flay Barton alive when he gets back._

"He doesn't want you to know yet Janell. You just have to give him a little more time."

"Like hell I do." The girl's stormy blue eyes pierced Coulson's skull. "Just tell me and I'll go and not bother you until he gets back, mkay?"

_Screw it. I told Barton he should have dealt with this sooner. Now it's gonna blow up in his face._

"He has a new partner and they had a fight right before they left."

"Oh is that all?" Janell rolled her eyes. "That's not a big deal, he's gone through a whole slew of partners."

Coulson pulled a face. _No way am I telling her the whole story. That's for Barton to do._

"This one is different. Ask him when he gets back. Now get out of here, I have important paperwork to finish."

"Fine, fine." Janell paused at the door. "Are you still coming for dinner tonight even though he's gone?"

Coulson paused and looked up, surprised that she would ask. "Of course I am."

Janell grinned. "Alright. See you at six."

Coulson shooed her out with his hand. "See you then, Nellie."

* * *

**A/N: So yeah...I guess it's been a while since I updated, thank you to those of you who are sticking with me anyway:-) So, Janell or Nellie, who is she? Obviously she's close to Clint...but why? Just leaving you a few questions to ponder until I get the next update up! Thanks to everyone who reviews/follows/favorites this story!**

* * *

_Girl I know there's times you must have thought _  
_ There ain't a line you've drawn I haven't crossed _  
_ But you set your mind to see this love on through _  
_ I guess that's just the cowboy in you _

_ We ride and never worry about the fall _  
_ I guess that's just the cowboy in us all _


End file.
